


For one human

by evyscerated



Category: Hunger Games - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Hunger Games AU, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evyscerated/pseuds/evyscerated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Apocalypse and Lucifer’s victory, the world is ash and dust. Hell is unleashed on earth under the form of the Sacred Games, a twisted and sick way for Lucifer to keep control over supernatural creatures and humans alike. When Sam is reaped to fight in the Games, Dean volunteers in his place to raise a little hell. But the angels have a plan of their own to overthrow the demons, a plan that might be put to risk because of Dean Winchester’s presence. It may or may not have something to do with a certain blue eyed angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Torn

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the very clear Hunger Games inspiration, I wouldn't say this is a complete AU because there's so much canon in it. I'm changing the ending of season 5, making Lucifer win and throw Michael in the cage. After the Apocalypse, Gabriel takes away Cas' and Dean's memories of each other.

The Apocalypse had rendered all of them empty and hollow. Humans, supernatural creatures. Good and evil. All of them. There wasn’t anything they could have done, as they tried to remind themselves every so often. Lucifer had risen, unleashed hell on earth and took everything with him. He had been vicious in the way that he hadn’t destroyed Earth, properly speaking. The Croatoan virus was way worse. It was delirious and red and hell in technicolor. So many had fallen. Too many. Even the vampires, the werewolves, the shape shifters had joined forces, and somehow it wasn’t enough to overthrow the power of Hell.  
Some of them had been cowards, and some had genuinely agreed with Satan’s ideas. One way or another, all had either fallen or fought on Hell’s side, and only the humans were left to stand, very much alone and deprived of any kind of power. It had lasted for two whole years. They had dropped their weapons. And Lucifer finally restored order on Earth, very mercifully, according to himself. The virus was gone, and the dictatorship had begun.

The world was ash and dust, and so was Dean Winchester.

Sam and Dean Winchester had probably fought harder and with more verve than any other in this war. It was no secret that those boys would have gladly sacrificed their own lives for the greater cause, but somehow they escaped Death every single time, whether it be by skill or sheer luck. People said it was because they were the best hunters the world had ever seen. Those who know better are very much aware that the real reason is that they have each other. They shot and stabbed and hunted every last demon and hell hound they found, protected their own people, until the number of survivors dwindled and all hope was gone and everything was gone.

Except them.

They found the courage to stay even when the new system was announced. Lucifer, in all his tremendous generosity and selflessness, would offer them the chance to defend themselves again the forces of hell. Every year since, two members of every supernatural race left would be sent to Purgatory and fight to the death against the other creatures. Only one would be left standing, and the winning race would gain Hell’s protection for the year. No killing would be done among them, and they would get peace. If any of them tried to overthrow Lucifer’s reign, a second Apocalypse, much more violent, would await them. The Sacred Games, they’d call it, to mock the angels.

Lucifer had won his crown by throwing his brother Michael into the pit, taking away the angels’ leader and their pride by the same occasion. Gabriel had taken over, and found an agreement with the fallen angel so they were hurt far less than anybody else, even though they abhorred working with the demons. They had no choice; the last thing they wanted was for Lucifer to wreak havoc again, and their own interests were preserved.

Not all supernatural creatures saw it that way, though. The virus may have been gone, but the world was still in ruins- burning. Food was scarce, weapons even more. Some had tried to fight back, retaliating, killing demons and raising a little hell of their own. Needless to say, they were extinct now. Gone. Slaughtered and fallen into oblivion. Amazons were the first to die, closely followed by Arachnes and Crocottas. A lot more tried and failed into the Games, and only 12 races were left. It had been that way for a few years now, the system was engrained. People learned. They had accepted. That was probably the saddest part of the story.

It had taken everything in Sam Winchester to walk away.

After so many years of fighting, and giving, and sacrificing, accepting there wasn’t anything he could do anymore had felt like jumping into the void. Acceptance was probably the most dangerous thing in the world, and his brother Dean hadn’t quite reached that yet. Sam had moved away from him, not too far, just in case, but enough that he wouldn’t have to deal with Dean’s expression and hollow eyes every morning. The sight had broken everything in him way too many times before. He had even found warmth and affection in the person of Amelia, with whom he was trying to live a life as peaceful as possible. Dean had never met her; never wanted to. He wouldn’t admit it, but it would have hurt too much.

It was the eve of the Reaping. It was customary that Dean stayed at Bobby’s for the night; he was the only person who would understand exactly how helpless and desperate he felt on these days. He was very likely to be reaped for the Games and he knew that. Every single person had the possibility to get food, weapons and privileges. In exchange, they would increase their chances of entering the Games. Dean probably had his name a thousand times in the reaping fire, with all the alcohol and guns he had bought from them. He chuckled as he took another sip of his cheap whiskey. Bobby glanced at him, squinting his eyes.

Bobby had watched his boy fall helplessly after the Croatoan virus was gone. He had seen the light go out from his eyes the further he and Sam drifted apart. Everything had seemed to leave him, suddenly, everything had turned to ashes in his mouth and the old hunter knew it wasn’t just about the demons. Something was missing. He looked at the ceiling, looking for answers he would never get.

 

*

  
“Castiel. Focus.” Gabriel gritted between his teeth.

They were loud. Too loud. A true angel cacophony, and yet nobody else was in the room. Castiel’s hands were on his hands, trying to press his skull like a lemon, to make the voices go away. He had heard them for months now, couldn’t figure out where they were coming from.

“I can’t.” he answered, in his usual guttural tone. “I… There’s something wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong. You have to stop.” The archangel hissed, impatient. The timing was incredibly wrong. Was this Fate’s work? Could Castiel somehow sense that something had been taken from him? Did he ache and grieve from his memories? Did he grieve for Earth?

“You have to play your part. We all agreed.” Gabriel’s eyes were fixed on him, unyielding. He would show his brother no tenderness; their fate depended on how well the angel would play. They could not afford to lose this battle. This year was the year they regained control over the world. It was the year Lucifer would bite the dust and get his ass kicked back to where he belonged.

“The reaping is tomorrow” Castiel muttered more to himself than to his brother.

“And you won’t fuck it up” Gabriel asserted, before leaving his brother to himself.

The voices came back, stronger. For the first time that night, Castiel was haunted by the color green. A meadow kind of green. He did not know why. It made it even worse.

 

*

 

Dean didn’t sleep. He watched as the sun rose, glorious and petulant, as if to laugh in his face. “This is your turn” it seemed to say “This is how you die”. He was prepared all right. No human had ever won the Games, and how could they? Of course they had access to weapons in Purgatory, but every single race had a supernatural edge, or some kind of power, and in comparison humanity seemed incredibly small and defenseless. Usually a demon won, or an angel.  
Once in Purgatory, they usually went through the Games together as a pack, and then they turned against each other. Just this once, the Leviathans had also won. That year had been one of the worse in existence. Everybody remembered the rise of Dick, and not in a good way. Even Crowley, the Game maker, had been reluctant to announce his victory.

But if Dean Winchester was to go, he would go in a blaze of glory.

He didn’t even mind going to Purgatory in the first place. Everything was better than living another year under Lucifer’s reign while Sam was trying to put his life back together without him. That hurt more than anything else.

“You okay, boy?” he heard Bobby ask, as if through a veil.

He already felt gone.

“I’m fine” Dean answered, roughly.

Sam arrived a few moments later. He didn’t visit often, but he always came for the Reaping, just in case one of them was chosen. They had to be there to say goodbye. Sam had a bad feeling about this year, and it only grew when he saw his brother’s hollow face. Idleness was not a good look on him.

“Sammy” Dean said, with a clap on his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you man” Sam replied, his lips only forming a half smile.

Bobby greeted Sam with a firm hug. None of them asked about Amelia; they all knew Sam didn’t want to see the look on her face if he was reaped. Dean handed him a beer without a word, and sat back down on his chair.

They waited. They waited in silence, a bottle of liquor in their hands, eyes fixed on the clock, hanged on the wall on front of them. If Dean was chosen, Tessa would come for him. She was in charge of the human reaping, and he couldn’t say that he missed seeing her. The knot in Sam’s guts became tighter and tighter as time went by. The silence was excruciating.

When the clock hand passed noon, Dean heard a sigh of relief. He knew that Bobby had been worried about him, but he hadn’t been reaped. He wasn’t going to the Games. Instead, some poor bastard was marching towards his death, along with a girl he was hoping would die quickly because he remembered Nancy from last year; he had met her a few days before she went to Purgatory. Sweet innocent virgin, she hadn’t even been the first to die. She’d somehow managed to run with the other human, Henriksen, before they both blew up to pieces.

Dean wasn’t even remotely connected to them, and somehow, Nancy’s death had triggered something in him. He had sworn that if he wasn’t reaped this year, he wouldn’t even bother following the Games at all. He knew how they were going to end, and he would save himself a lot of trouble.

It only took one second to tear this peace apart.

Tessa appeared right in front of them, a crooked smile on her face. They heard something drop to the ground and the distinctive sound of broken glass. Bobby’s glass of whiskey. And his heart along with it, probably.

“Hello boys.” She said, smiling and eyeing them. “I’m sorry I’m late, the girl wouldn’t stop fighting, it took me a while.”

They didn’t say anything for a while. Then Dean spoke up, chin raised and a look on his face that screamed murder.

“Let’s do this.”

Tessa tilted her head to the side, and he could have sworn he saw her bite her lip for a fraction of second. She looked at him straight in the eye.

“I’m not here for you Dean.”

Dean didn’t understand right away.

Cut the crap, he thought. But then he felt himself shaking. Hard. He saw white spots, as white as his knuckles. When did his hands turn into fists? He didn’t remember that. A plethora of feelings hit him in the guts. He tasted bile into and mouth, bile and blood. His stomach dropped in his knees and he was pretty sure his lungs were ripped to shreds. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.

No.

No.

No.

“Son of a bitch.” He managed to blurt out.

He wouldn’t even look at Sam’s face but he already knew what he would be looking at. Stern, determined. Fucking stupid hero.

“Okay. Let’s not drag this out. I’m ready.” He heard Sam say, empowered and strong.

It made Dean want to punch him. He didn’t walk away from all this, refusing to sign up for extra rations of food and weapons so he would be reaped. It was wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be Dean, it was always supposed to be Dean, he was the one who deserved to go. He knew what he had to do. He would do what he always did. Save his little brother.

Dean Winchester was the kind of person to set himself on fire to keep the others warm.

“No.”

His voice rung out, clear as crystal. He had fire in his eyes as he planted his iris into Tessa’s like a hatchet. The bitch would not be reaping his brother.  
“Dean” Sam warned. He was sick and tired of this. It was his job, he had been chosen and there was nothing Dean could do about it.

Could he?.

“Take me instead. I’ll go. I volunteer.” He gritted through his teeth bitterly.

Tessa smiled sadly. She always had a special spot in her dead cold heart for these boys.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t do this, Dean.” Sam said, his voice pleading.

But Dean was made of iron and gore, and he was unyielding.

He nodded. Tessa took a step closer and raised her hand.

“I’ll come too.” Sam said, gravelly voice and shaking hands.

A third person could accompany the tributes, it was customary. They wouldn’t fight alongside them in Purgatory, but they could help them and train them during preparation. For the supernatural creatures, it was often the Alpha. For humans, most of the time it was a parent. Not for fighting purposes, though. To say goodbye.

It didn’t take a lot of convincing after that. Tessa seemed content with the deal. She explained them how exactly was going to happen now.

“I will transport you to a hidden location, you will get to meet the other contestants before the Games begin. You might want to observe their skills, and the way they fight. I’m not going to lie to you, chances are they’ll outlive you even if you try your best. But then again, it’s not my decision” she sighed.

She was about to take both the boy’s arms, when Sam spoke again.

“Hey Tessa?”

She turned around, eyebrows raised.

“Who’s the girl?” he asked, curious.

She took a few seconds to answer.

“Jo Harvelle.”

Dean closed his eyes as he felt himself jumping through the void with Tessa.

He would never win the Games.

Not really.


	2. Frayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the second chapter took so long, I was doing GISHWHES and it absolutely took over my life for a week, so blame Misha really, for being an extraordinary human being. Enjoy ! The third should be up soon.

She was the first thing he saw when he arrived. She was like a white rose in a landscape of guts spilled everywhere. Jo had always been like that, painting herself red so she wouldn’t seem so harmless. She didn’t really have a choice now, did she? Dean felt the weight of her body pressed against his, and he passed a hand behind her back, as if to comfort her. But she did not need comfort. She was not shaking, and there was a deadly gleam in her eyes that could only mean she was ready to kill some sons of bitches. Dean allowed himself to smile, even though his eyes were as cold as stone.

“Dean” she said, determined.

She didn’t seem surprised to find him here. If anything, she looked proud, for some reason that Dean couldn’t grasp. He broke off their stiff embrace and turned to Sam. The younger Winchester, however, seemed worried. It didn’t take Dean more than a few seconds to figure out why; they’d been here before.

“You recognize the place?” Tessa asked, knowing very well the answer.

“Yeah” Sam gritted between his teeth.

He would know; he had died here.

What seemed to be a lifetime ago, this was the place Yellow-Eyes had taken all his psychic kids for them to fight one another until only one was left. The irony, Sam thought, as he eyed the half-destroyed buildings. He was pretty sure he had left something of himself buried in the ground, something sacred, even though he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Everything had started here.

Sam dying and Dean selling his soul to get him back. The thirty excruciating years in Hell and the desperation that had crawled under both their skins. The miraculous rescue that he could no longer remember and their fight against Lucifer. It had all taken roots in this very place, and it still burned hot in Sam’s memory.

Dean was no mind reader, but he had lived alongside Sam all his life and he was no stranger to the way he thought. Instinctively, he took a step closer.

“You have three days before the Games start.” Tessa said as she led them into an abandoned house. “The preparation includes training and showing of skills.”

She turned around and raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“I doubt you’ll need to prove yourself to your audience, righteous man, walking nightmare and all that, but this is how you get other races to help you. Otherwise, pardon my bluntness, you’re left with the human support and you’re screwed.”

Dean knew she was right. They had almost nothing in Purgatory, at first. A few weapons in the center of it all, a well hidden stream, but mostly they were left to themselves. However, every race had the possibility to make deals, gather resources, and send them to the contestants in the arena. Sometimes, those gifts were all it took to make a difference between life and death.

The previous year, a simple blood bag sent by the vampires helped one of them survive until there was only him and Abaddon left. In the end she had been too powerful and won anyway, but that blood bag had meant hope for the vampires for a few days. The humans had never experienced such thing, Dean thought bitterly, as he threw his jacket on the counter. His counterparts didn’t have enough resources, and obviously the other races were not going to waste their own on some poor human who was doomed to die anyway. This was probably why no human had ever won.

“I will leave you to it. Make yourselves comfortable, you’re stuck here for three days. I will come back tomorrow morning to take you to the training.” Tessa professed, slightly annoyed. After all, she had had to watch her contestants die every year without ever reaping any kind of glory.

She disappeared instantly, and the three of them were left staring at each other.

They didn’t quite know what to say. Maybe there was, in fact, nothing much they could say. No words of comfort or encouragement could be provided for any of them. And so they sat in silence for a while, and ate the dinner some cocky demon brought them. Jo blurted out that she felt like a stuffed pig about to be slaughtered, and neither of the boys could really contradict her.

When they went to bed that night, there was this emptiness in them that could never be filled ever again.

 

It turned out the training center wasn’t far at all. Tessa had them going through tunnels and they could almost taste dirt in their mouths, but they reached it quickly. Sam wasn’t allowed, though, and Dean could see that being told to stay behind wasn’t easy for him. The Games seemed to reach to a part of him that he had been trying to bury carefully for quite a few years now.

The others were already practicing, and Dean and Jo observed them for a few seconds, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. Unimpressed. Their eyes were drawn by the blazing blue aura of the djinns, who were trying to handle knives awkwardly; their most powerful weapon was way more efficient than a sharp blade. They were distracted by the demons, throwing punches and clawing at each other while two werewolves were showing teeth. Dean squinted his eyes. The second one wasn’t a werewolf, he decided, looking at the teeth. It was a Rugaru.

Dean suddenly felt a burn on his arm. The pain shot through him like somebody was flaying the skin off. He groaned and instinctively looked up. He wondered how he could have missed them. The two angels were glowing like beacons, in the middle of a small crowd. Something had probably happened but Dean couldn’t care less; one of them was looking at him like he’d never seen a human before. Something about him felt strangely familiar. When the angel looked away, the pain in his arm stopped.

“Something wrong?” Jo asked, worried.

Dean muttered that he was fine and turned away.

Freaking angels.

“Let’s show them what we can do.” Dean said, getting angrier by the second.

Jo nodded and they went to pick up knives to practice close combat. Dean wasn’t worried about his abilities, but he needed to make sure Jo would be fine in Purgatory. The plan was to exterminate every last son of a bitch, then make her the winner. He hadn’t even given a thought. When he’d heard her name come out of Tessa’s mouth, he knew this was how it would end. She had to win. And he would teach her everything he knew.

The demons Lucifer had sent to judge their performance were watching them from above. They were in charge of the final ranking; they had to determine who was the best of the best and who was an easy target. A twisted thing to do really, because it usually gave a pretty good indication of who would die first.

A few minutes later, they were slashing and throwing punches at each other. Jo had made him promise not to go easy on her, and when they took a break, she saw that bruises were already darkening her skin. Panting, she grabbed a bottle of water and gestured at something behind Dean.

“I think you have a shadow”, she smirked.

Dean turned around, just in time to see two glimmering orbs staring at him before disappearing behind a column. The kid was scrawny and awkward, with a large nose and shaky hands. So skinny he could fit behind it without being seen. Dean recognized him as one of the werewolves, though he didn’t know his name.

Others were staring at him, eyebrows raised. There was no doubt that the majority knew who Dean Winchester was. Who didn’t? He had saved more people and killed more of them than they could count. He was a threat. But Dean caught a glimpse of one of the witches glancing at Jo and knew they were going to be targeting her. None of them were stupid, sadly.

After that, Dean and Jo sat down and watched the others fight. Tessa joined them after a while.

“The genies are powerful, be careful” she told them, whispering in their ears.

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, he could see that, thank you very much. One of the creatures had a Rugaru trapped in an alternate reality already. In his mind, Dean did the math and recapitulated all the creatures he would have to fight off and kill in order to bring the victory home. Demons and angels, he knew. They were going to be the worst. Vampires, werewolves, kitsunes and rugarus. He’d had to deal with them before, that’d be nothing new. If anything, they were the easiest ones to deal with, if he could get his hands on the right weapons. Genies would be tricky, but if he could avoid being trapped, he should be fine, they weren’t hard to kill. Sirens would be the same. Shapeshifters and Leviathans, evil sons of bitches. He had never fought leviathans, but it was obviously time to learn. And finally, the witches. They were going to be dangerous as well. Easiest to kill, because they were human, but they weren’t going to be easy to find, or to stop. Once more, it struck him how vulnerable he would be in Purgatory because of Jo, and suddenly he thought about Sam. He would have known what to do. He always did. Dean was the one who couldn’t stand to stay on his own.

The very thought of losing Sam was enough to make him sick to his stomach. It didn’t even occur to him, how very selfish it was to always march to battle leaving his brother behind with the same feeling.

It was easier leaving than staying.

“Why aren’t the angels fighting?” Jo asked abruptly, interrupting his train of thought.

Tessa chuckled.

“They’re too good to show their weaknesses at practice. They’re better than the vast majority in here and they know it. They just don’t bother” she answered bitterly.

The way she could sometimes be kind and understanding, it was easy to forget Tessa was a demon. A reaper, given, but under Hell’s orders.

“The dude doesn’t strike me as posing” Jo said, raising an eyebrow.

She was looking at the male angel who had met Dean’s gaze moments before. Like he sensed Dean’s eyes on him he turned around a few degrees. They didn’t look at each other, but something was off about this angel, and even human, he could sense it.

“Castiel, angel of Thursday” Tessa said, matter-of-factly. “He volunteered too, apparently. Both of them did.”

Dean muttered something Jo did not hear and shrugged. This felt uneasy, weird. Something clenched in his stomach, something terribly familiar. He could not put his finger on exactly what it was that made him so wary of the angel’s presence, and it was properly infuriating.

But Jo was right; he did not look vain, or pretentious. If anything he looked quite humble, eyebrows furrowed and hands fumbling with his trench coat. Quiet, and calm. There was something in the way his jaw was clenched, in the way he was looking at the ground, listening with one ear to what the others had to say.

He looked lonely.

Dean looked away.

 

“Good afternoon everyone” a voice rang out, low and somehow managing to sound horribly sarcastic uttering only three words.

Crowley. They had only heard of the crossroads demon, promoted to the rank of Head Gamemaker. He was in charge of the whole organization of the games, and also of the deals that had to be made in order to ship something into Purgatory. He always looked like he knew something the others didn’t. That was enough for most people to want to punch him. Demons included. Hell, Lucifer included.

Dean turned around. Crowley was standing above them, on a high balcony, his voice resonating in the bunker. He despised the man.

“I have heard prodigies were among us this year. I must admit, I am quite impatient to see what you all have in store for us this year.”

Dean could have sworn his eyes had flickered to him for a fraction of second.

“I will be personally be hosting the last dinner, and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you.” He said with a smile. There was a cruel hint in his eyes that startled Dean. It wasn’t the usual level of cruel you would expect from a demon. That one was having the time of his life.

Jo, at his side, was eyeing him like she wished she could be the one driving a demon-killing knife through his chest.

A few seconds later, Crowley was gone, and Tessa was whispering in his ear again.

“Be careful. He’s got his eyes on you. The best thing you can do at that point is try to suck at practice so you will place low in the final ranking. If they don’t think you’re worth it, they’ll leave you guys alone and you’ll have a chance.”

That was good advice, objectively. Dean wasn’t sure he had it in his heart to do that, though.

He thought about Sam, for just a second. He was going to have to try.

 

 


End file.
